When the two met again, The Gander appeared to have recovered 일본야구중계 his temper, and listened to Yorky’s explanations of the mishap on the course as pleasantly as if he believed them, which was very far from being the case. Then Yorky so far unbent as to spend some of his money in drinks for The Gander, and was foolish enough to believe that he had cheated the stupid-looking Scotchman very nicely, and that he would hear no more of the matter.

The races had taken place during the New Year holidays, and while the pantomimes were running at the theatres. In one of these The Gander was engaged as a “super.,” and it was known to him that the treasurer was in the habit of leaving the theatre for his home, at the foot of Broughton Street, late every night, carrying under his arm or in his hand a tin box resembling a cash-box. This box contained nothing but metal checks, which the treasurer counted at his home. All the money drawn at the doors remained in possession of the manager. Had Yorky not been an unusually cunning man it is probable that The Gander would have manipulated him direct, but as it was, he was forced to confide in another. A loafing acquaintance of Yorky’s seemed a suitable tool, and he was engaged and primed accordingly. Bob Slogger had himself an old grudge against Yorky, so, on the whole, perhaps a better choice could not have been made.

The opportunity came when Bob and Yorky were drinking together one afternoon, when the former incidentally remarked that they were doing immense business at the theatre, and making piles of money. Yorky only grunted in reply. It seemed hard that any one but him should be making money, and he did not like the subject.

“I got it out of The Gander that the treasurer can hardly carry the money home some nights,” continued Slogger, repeating his lesson. “He lives at the foot of Broughton, and carries it there in a tin box every night about half-past eleven. I could do with that boxful of silver on a Saturday night.”

“Ah! Saturday night? is there most in it then?” observed Yorky, suddenly rousing into deep interest.

“Of course there is;” and Slogger at once gave the reasons, and repeated all that The Gander had said regarding the appearance of the treasurer, his hour of going home, and the dark and deserted appearance of the streets at that lonely locality. Yorky snapped at the bait, but did not abandon his usual caution. He said nothing to his informant of his intentions, and much of The Gander’s after proceedings had to be founded on mere acute inferences. The spot to be chosen for the attack he guessed at by one of Yorky’s questions, and the night most likely to be selected for the attempt was Saturday, for, of course, when the robbery was to be done, it might as well be for a big sum as a little one. He made sure of this last point, however, by trying hard to get Yorky to engage to meet him that night after business, but failed, as Yorky gruffly indicated that he was engaged.

So far all had succeeded to The Gander’s satisfaction. It only remained for him to give the finishing stroke. He got a sheet of note-paper, of a kind used in the theatre, and penned the following note to me:—

“If will watch at the west end of Barony Street between eleven and twelve o’clock on Saturday night, he will see a gent attacked and robbed by a desperate thief who can run like Deerfoot. The gent always carries a tin box, and, as it’s supposed to be full of money, it’s the box that will be grabbed at. There had better be more than one at the catching, or he’s sure to get off.”

There was no signature, and at first I was inclined to believe the thing a hoax, or worse—a plot to draw me away from some spot where I was likely to be more useful, but in the end I decided to act on the advice.

I had no idea that the gent described was the worthy treasurer of the theatre, and I suppose The Gander had purposely remained silent on that point lest I should warn the gentleman threatened, and so spoil the little plot.

I was down at Barony Street before eleven o’clock. I took the west end, and plantedunder shelter at the east. It was a dark night, and scarcely any one passed me at my lonely lurking-place. I was so suspicious of a hoax that I was positively surprised when a gentleman appeared at the other end of the street carrying the tin box in his hand, and whistling away as cheerily as if there were no such thing as street robbers in existence. He had scarcely appeared in sight when another man turned the corner walking rapidly in his wake, and looking hastily round to make sure that they were alone in the short street.

The distance between the two rapidly diminished, and then, looking anxiously along behind them, I had the satisfaction of seeinghead cautiously appear from his hiding-place at the other end of the street. I had scarcely noted the fact when the footpad was on his victim, making a dash from behind at the treasurer, tripping him up, and at the same moment wrenching the tin box from his grasp.

None but an expert thief could have done the thing so swiftly. The moment the box was in his possession the thief caught sight of me making a dash towards him, and turned and flew towards the end of the street by which he had entered. He flew so fast that his feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground. had emerged from his hiding-place at the first outcry, and appeared directly in front of the flying man with his great, strong arms extended for a bear’s hug; but the flying man, unable to check his pace, yet unwilling to be taken, merely raised the tin box of tokens and dashed it full in face, flattening my chum’s little nose with his face, and laying him on his back on the snowy pavement as neatly as if he had been tugged back by the hair. I paid no attention to, but flew on in the wake of the thief; but when I turned the corner of the street into Broughton he had vanished, I knew not in what direction. I turned back, after a run up the brae, and found sitting up on the pavement and tenderly feeling the place where his nose had been.

“Oh, you thickhead!” was my only remark, as I passed on to speak to the robbed man.

“Thick, is it?” he dolefully returned. “Faix, it’s a great deal thinner than it was a minit ago.”

“And you let him off, money and all,” I added, in deep disgust.

“Begorra, if you’d felt the weight of the money, like me, you’d wish it far enough away,” he returned, busy with his handkerchief; “a steam hammer’s nothing to it.”

“I am happy to say that there was no money in the box,” said the robbed man, who was little the worse of his fall. “Nothing but a number of metal tokens used as checks at the theatre.”

“Tokens?” groaned , clenching his fists. “I’d like to give him some more.”

A few words of explanation followed, which considerably relieved my concern over the loss of the thief; and then the robbed man accompanied us to the Central to report the case, and get a look at the handwriting of the note sent us in warning. He readily recognised the note-paper as of a kind used in the theatre, but could make nothing of the handwriting. However, the fact that the warning had come from some one employed in the theatre was a clue of a kind, and with the promise to give us every help in following it out, he took leave.